


Aerials

by Snake (Fatality145)



Category: Dishonored (Video Game)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-13
Updated: 2012-11-13
Packaged: 2017-11-18 14:20:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/561992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fatality145/pseuds/Snake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>This creature was a threat.</i>
</p><p> </p><p>  <i>He could feel it in his skin, beneath it, in his sweat, in his breath sharply exhaled against a clothed shoulder. He would never be able to place why, though.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Aerials

**Author's Note:**

> [Aerials || System of a Down](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KH1D1pcQ7Og)
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> let's disregard everything else i have half finished and just start shit in a new fandom shall we (◕‿◕✿)
> 
> first dishonored fic and it's smutty angst whOOPS that kind of sets the the tone for my. everything. all aboard the angstfuck train next stop never doot doot

This creature was a _threat_.

 

                He could feel it in his skin, beneath it, in his sweat, in his breath sharply exhaled against a clothed shoulder. He would never be able to place _why_ , though. Why this thing that had such an immense hold on him, a vice tight grip on his spine, could breed such feeling, could drip into nightmares that would force him awake. And he would let it happen, too.

 

                He’d never experienced it, or knew anybody who had. Even the books and notes he had to refer to were mixed signs of appreciation and loathing, nothing to base an interpretation on. This was an emotion that came with the chill at the nape of his neck to counter the warmth in his hand, the unearthly glow of orange and azure.

 

                Sometimes, he’d like to think he knew better, but he didn’t. Each time those animate fingers would curl around his mask, lift it up and away, the presumption would be swept just like the sweep of fingertips along his jaw that were a paradoxical cold warmth.

 

                Behind those eyes, whale-skin black, was more than he would ever understand, he knew that much. A wisdom of infinite ages, a procured set of morals that were so skewed no human could hope to comprehend in a single lifetime. Complete, utter amorality. Though, in this, there was cynicism, a cruelty, an uncaring nature.

 

                While it was true, he had difficulty believing it, sometimes, with how he would watch ebony hand prints freeze burn into the skin of his chest, over the tray of his ribs, fading just as quick as they came into plumes of smoke as the touch would be removed and placed elsewhere.

 

                He had let it happen, the first time, maybe through the shock seizing him, maybe through something else, feeling that tongue that he now knew as forked slide along his lower lip, piercing sight kept on him, forever on him, as he had reacted with a breathy sigh.

 

                Every time after that, however, it had been on him, he was the one to grab for the shadowy and meticulously neat vestments, his lips parting others, the dark taste melting to his tongue, still with those abyssal eyes trained on his face. He didn’t know what it was that made him so. He guessed it was what he’d been told once, that humans have a perpetual attraction to the unknown, a secret inclination to the darkness and primal fear.

 

                Maybe he just wanted to know all that there was, the things he couldn’t take from cryptic questions and even more obscure statements. It was as raw as it was deep, his nails catching on the back of a coat, fingers knotting into short hair.

 

                After so long, all those months kept in a dank, wet prison cell, the only touches that came close to what he’d remembered were from a questionable source. He couldn’t be sure if they were of adoration, something not loathing, or something else entirely, and he didn’t think that he cared.

 

                Threat made the blood run hot, flooded with adrenaline; pulse in his ear, in his throat, on his tongue, having no doubt that the sporadic beat could be felt through his crawling skin.

 

                “Corvo, Corvo,” The name was almost like a croon, inflection faintly patronizing, as it fell from the Outsider’s lips which dragged along the slant of his palpable hip bone to his groin, each point of bare contact leaving those same momentary black marks, the skin underneath flecking with gooseflesh. That dark paint didn’t show up every time he touched something, he’d realized. The Outsider was just _flashy_ , when he wanted to be. Perhaps even a little possessive, or a lot.

 

                Despite how much he squirmed, Corvo was always quiet, like an adept instinct having bled into everything else, pressing the back of his branded hand to his mouth to quiet himself as it glowed and heated. That carefully crafted façade would drop once the spectre’s split tongue would meet with his dick, always warm, surprisingly. The Outsider was no kind of human, but he must have known enough about human behaviour to remedy the frost of the Void.

 

                He had articulation and fluidity far more complex and trained than anyone Corvo had met, he knew that first hand. His touch could sink through his scarred, worn skin, hang like cobwebs in his lungs, choke him up as well as make him come undone something absolute, wracking his form with uncontrollable tremors.

 

                Hips arching off the thin mattress to get further by those lips into that mouth that felt so proper while being anything not, Corvo opened his eyes as nails dragged over his naked stomach, pulling his attention down. He’d quickly realized the Outsider liked attention when he wanted it, shakily reaching down and running his fingers over the being’s cheek, feeling the head of his dick through the flesh as other tilted his head, cocking a brow, the corners of his lips curving upward.

 

                Despite being covered in shadow, the Outsider was recognizable in this form. Civilians knew what he looked like, the tone of his voice, the sound and energy he gave off. He gave his followers a body to draw in their notes and theses, purposefully, too. There was a reason why he wasn’t as illusive or as hard to find as he could be, and that was simply because he liked to be known for his work, even if he was picky.

 

                It had made Corvo laugh softly under his breath when that thought had come to him. There was so much more beneath the passiveness and the neutrality. And something like that was so human that it was strange.

 

                He couldn’t keep his head on track with things that seemed so trivial, then, like that, as that wicked mouth would wring his train of thought, making him buck and prop up a thigh by the other’s shoulder. The weirdness had long since passed from watching the two prongs of the Outsider’s tongue spread around the ridge of his prick, licking up the bead of moisture that would form at the slit before taking him back in.

 

                Corvo was never sure what the Outsider got out of all of this. He never showed any physical effects, not really. The assassin was beginning to think he just liked to see him writhe and gasp and moan through grit teeth.

 

                When it would be over, Corvo not quite sure what name to breathe and instead opting for a trembling groan, he would never get quite enough air into his tight lungs before the other’s mouth would slant over his, the anti-taste of the Void on his tongue rather than anything else.    

 

                He would end up more breathless than he’d started off once the Outsider pulled away, lips at his ear, teeth at the lobe.

 

                “Some people live so wrong, Corvo,” The spectre would whisper, and Corvo would have no time to respond before he was brought into the current of the Outsider’s storm.

**Author's Note:**

> laughs all through the void and into the abyss i'll do something good and longer for dishonored one day


End file.
